searching for

John Milton’s

Paradise

by Roberto Lavidez

as one

from sad

dismay

recomforted

and after

thoughts

disturbd

submitting to

what seemd

remediless

those thoughts

that wander

through

eternity

to perish

rather

swallowed up

and lost

in the wide

womb of

uncreated

night

for man

to tell

how human

life began

is hard

for who

himself

beginning

knew

of all the

trees in

paradise

that bear

delicious

fruit

so various

not to

taste

that onely

tree of

knowledge

planted by

the tree

of life

nor did

they not

perceave

the evil

plight

in which

they were

or the fierce

pains

not feel

how many

ages as

the years

of men

this universe

we have

possest

and rul’d

in manner

at our will

th’ affairs

of earth

because

wee freely

love

as in our

will to love

or not

in this

we stand

or fall

o heav’nly

love shall 

outdoo

hellish

hate

giving to

death

and dying

to redeeme

so dearly

to redeem

what hellish

hate

to prayer

repentance

and obedience

due though

but endevord

with sincere

intent

mine ear

shall not

be slow

mine eye

not shut

o innocence

deserving

paradise

if ever

then

then had

the sons

of god

excuse

to have bin

enamour’d

at that sight

but in

those hearts

love

unlibidinous

reign’d

nor jealousie

was understood

the injur’d

lover’s hell

©robertolavidez2014  

R. L. Stevenson

through the ages

by Roberto Lavidez

in spite of

our wisdom

and sensible

talking

we

on our feet

must go

plodding

and walking

the beauties

of man

are frail

and the

silver lies

in the dust

and the

queen

that we call

to mind

sleeps

with the

brave and

the just

from out of

the dainty

the rude

the strong

from out of

the frail

eternally

through

the ages

from the

female

comes

the male

in dreams

unhappy

I behold

you stand

as heretofore:

the unremembered

tokens in

your hand

avail no more

to goodness

or greatness

to be good

and die

or to be great

and live

forever great

fixed is

the doom;

and to the

last of years

teacher

and taught

friend

lover

parent

child

each walks

though near

yet separate

time was the

golden head

irrevocably 

said

but time

which none

can bind

while flowing

fast away

leaves love

behind

still I love

to rhyme

and still more

rhyming

to wander

far from the

commoner way

long life

and short life

the last word 

said early in

the evening

there lies

the bed

and yet

I think

I hear

the words

repeated

plangent

and sad

on every

wind

that blows

the Gods

are dead

a word

that began

to go round

a word

a whisper

a start

hope that

leaped in

the bosom

fear that

knocked

on the heart

my

indefatigable

pen

I here

lay down

forever

men have

used

and left me

and forgot

©robertolavidez2014  

C.K.  Williams

appears again

by Roberto Lavidez

there are

matters

that can’t

be coped

with in

reflecting

on life

or love

or sometimes

it seems

anything

at all

the struggle

I thought

was all

my own

with the

horrors that

affected all

humanity

what an

unreasonable

demand

the word

asks of the

structures

people

contrive

to erect

against the

insistent

demands

of gravity

the thoughts

that rage

with your

voice

with your

words

your fear

your dread

your terror

and your

roaring

desire

which?

quick!

which?

too late…

too late

again

appears again

disappears

appears

vivid in 

the brilliant

sunlight

again is

gone

again is

there

one thinks

Rimbaud

again

his crippling

gift

his own

plunge

towards

death

forlorn-looking

language poets

hawking books

that haven’t

sold for

decades

and won’t

ever

to have

your voice

wrenched

from the

exercise

of the will

what other

tendrils of

the soul

would be

torn out

with it?

reality isn’t

dimmed

diminished

thrown out

of focus by

my struggle

with myself

who would

bring me

back through

these erasures

and annihilations

my oblivion

my sleep?

they don’t

sleep

but rather

just lie there

seeming

to need

to rest

from the

exertion

of existing

after all had

subsided

you were

given to

understand

that was that

you nod

and nod

out you’re

taken by

those waves

of tremulous

chill in

the layer

between

skin and

flesh

would

I want

to know

how an

old lover

whom I

last saw

when she

was twenty

would look

at seventy?

actually

I would

©robertolavidez2014  

W. Berry

in the stillness

of the trees

by Roberto Lavidez

I have come

to the end

of what

I have

supposed

following

my thread

of song

I am done

with apologies

if contrariness

is my

inheritance

and destiny

so be it

the mind

still hungers

for its earth

its bounded

and open

space

the term of

its final

assent

I come

into the

peace of

wild things

who do not

tax their

lives with

forethought

of grief

to imagine the

thoughtlessness

of a thoughtless

thing is

useless

the world

is greater

than its

words

to speak

of it

the mind

must bend

and so

as the old

lie and

the young

depart

where shall

a man go

who keeps

the memories

of the dead

suddenly

I know

I have

passed

across to

a shore

where I

do not

live

I’ve lived

in two

countries

in my life

and never

moved

it is

dangerous

to remember

the past

only for

its own sake

dangerous

to deliver

a message

that you

did not get

man has

put his

history

to sleep in

the engine

of doom

terrors are

to come

the earth

is poisoned

with narrow

lives

to be sane

in a mad

time

is bad

for the

brain

worse for

the heart

we’ve

come round

again to

short days

and long

nights

time goes

that there’s

a little

of the good

left over

from a

few lives

is a comfort

of sorts

in the

stillness

of the trees

I am 

at home

©robertolavidez2014  

my apologies

Maxine Kumin

by Roberto Lavidez

I understand

we did this

I understand

we may do

this again

before it is

done to us

I do the

same things

day by day

they steady

me against

the wrong

turn

I might

have swum

down looking

soundlessly

into nothing

down

stairways

and alleys

of nothing

under these

extenuating

circumstances

your mind

may make

absurd

leaps

everywhere

on this

planet

birth

I think

I hear

burned

babies

screaming

screaming

in the

basswood

by my

window

I close

the book

I am

reading

in which

there’s

a picnic

in the

country

before the

Great War

at least

there

says the

dream

no mysteries

stupidity

said

Immanuel 

Kant

is caused by

a wicked

heart

repent!

bliss is

belief

but where’s

the higher

moral plane

I roost on?

I grind out

a butt

and think

of the

waiting

bourbon

the sun

goes down in

disappointment

where have I

come from?

where am I

going?

one works

I suppose

because

It is

the most

interesting

thing

one knows

to do

think of

the language

we two

same and

not-same

might

have

constructed

from sign

scratch

grimace

grunt

vowel

I want to

apologize

for all

the snow

falling

in this

poem

so early

in the

season

in case

we

outlast

the winter

in case

when the

end comes

ending all

matter…

©robertolavidez2014  

Billy Collins behind

a double espresso

by Roberto Lavidez

love is

not as

simple as

getting up

on the

wrong side

of the bed

wearing the

emperor’s

clothes

to consider

the ruination

of love

a wisp of

smoke

rising from

a chimney

if there

will also

be a sun

and a

moon

and will

the dead

gather

to watch

them

rise

and set

who could

tell what

the next

moment

would hold

another drip

from the

faucet?

and who

cares if it

takes me

all day

to write

a poem

about the

dawn

I was only

behind a

double

espresso

and a

single hit

of anti-

depressant

I only

need to

slide into

place

the image

of Leonardo

at a table

by a

window

but where

are you

reader

who have

not paused

in your

walk

to look

over my

shoulder

to see

what I am

jotting

in this

notebook?

would the

heavy

anthologies

remain

on their

shelves

the word

that was

in the

beginning

and the

word

that was

made flesh

those

and all

the other

words

will cease

and get

my mind

off the

poems

of others

even as

they peer

down from

the trees

living life

to the

fullest

is the

only way

I am

probably

being

too literal

minded

here

I admit

to regarding

my own

birthday

as the

joyous

anniversary

of my

existence

©robertolavidez2014  

stuck with

unknowing

(Morse, McCaslin, Boskic, Lau,

Kenney, Holme, Rose, Gardiner,

Hagen, Schneberg, Roberts, Braid,

Rian, Reimer, McHugh)   

by Roberto Lavidez

to Proust off

disaster

to Proust

ourselves

off in

shower

of circling

image

stuck with

unknowing

all these

years

I wonder

blind

I will

walk on

earth

it will

rain

endlessly

I will

drown

unaware

I could

have fallen

forward

forever

the air

tasting

like honey

stillness

opening

at the

centre

of my

body

I am

infected

with dreams

at the

first moon

of conquest

I respectfully

request

to be

killed

I cannot

say

whose

empty

house

it was

that burned

throughout

the wrinkled

night

there was

no Canadian

hush of

things

not to be

talked

about

not all

of them

ignored

genocide

someone

is stealing

anatomies

skin of fish

bones of

bird

a step

toward loss

no colors

the glass

the leaves

the branches

all gray

charred

bodies

resurrect

themselves

noticing

a faint smell

of smoke

in their

sleek hair

for some

a seed of

instinct

suggesting

something

else

may

eventually

begin

your skin

fizzes with

the hot

and cold of

possibility

on this earth

it is always

morning

somewhere

as if we were

Baudelaire

surely Focault

never drank

so much coffee

in one sitting

and Virginia

Woolf wrote

in spite of

and not

because

of her

depression

teach us

to bear life’s

senselessness

and our own

insignificance

let’s call that

sanity

©robertolavidez2014